"They pulled your bank records?" Charlie sat up, outraged on her behalf.
"She, Mrs. Bensen, showed them to me and asked me about all the deposits, so I explained about the insurance settlement. But I'm not sure she really believed me. I didn't think they could get my personal records." She babbled, a nervous habit when she became upset. "But then I thought about you and your promotion and what this could all mean to you. This is a formal investigation, so if I didn't cooperate they'd call the newspapers. I couldn't let them make me relive the whole ugly mess from when Randy died or let Adam and Anna go through it all over again."
Charlie heard her swallow and could all but see her struggling to stay in control. Double shit. The corporation pulled her records without her knowledge; at least he had received warning. No wonder Peg told him to hire an attorney. He would—for Christine. "Sweetheart."
"It's not me." Fear entered her voice. "I swear on my life it's not. But I feel with everything I am, it's not you either."
He could see, feel, the tears rolling down her smooth face, yet he could do nothing to stop them, nothing to protect her.
"How can anyone think I'd steal nine hundred thousand dollars? I'd never steal nine let alone nine hundred thousand. But my name is on the fake orders, my signature, and yours too. They think I did this and tried to harm you. Which I'd never, ever do and ruin both our jobs. And what about your big promotion, the one you've worked so hard to get? Have I messed it up even though it's not me?"
Her voice broke. He clutched his phone so tight he heard the plastic creak. God, he wanted to hold her, tell her it would all work out and be normal again, and reassure her it was some simple mistake they'd laugh about later. The true thief would soon be caught. She'd be back at work, smiling from the video screen, flirting in her shy way, making him half-mad with desire. She sniffled, so strong, honest, and almost na?ve despite the hard road she'd traveled in life. Whoever set her, set him, up for this counted on her trust, goodness, and belief in people.
"I just wanted to tell you what's going on, so when Mrs. Bensen comes, you aren't totally unprepared." She had to be under the same directive not to discuss this with him, yet she put her own career at risk to warn him. On leave, in shock, accused, and she thought of him first. How could he not say anything? Her tone implied brokenness, and he couldn't bear it. But if he told her what Peg had implied, he risked their whole future. Damn. Damn. Damn.
She needed to fight, not give in or give up. Charlie gave a push even as bile rose in his throat. "Thanks. Hang in there. It will all work out. Everything will be fine." Could she read between the lines? Did she understand what he meant?
Her voice hurt, confused, and a bit angry Christine replied, "Gee, thanks for your words of encouragement."
Charlie grinned. There, the temper she usually kept well under wraps sizzled about to burst. Get mad, sweetheart. If you're angry, you'll fight. Don't let this roll you or let this embezzler win for one second. "I need to go take my run and get to work. Maybe I'll call you later."
"Sure." Oh yeah, definite anger coming through, her voice was clipped, short to the point of rudeness in the word.
Stay mad. I'm furious too. "Great. Enjoy the free time. Most people would love it."
"Sure. Bye." Christine hung up.
He'd sounded callous and unfeeling, and he hated it. But an angry Christine meant action. He'd seen it before; she channeled angry into something productive. She'd rage first then get down to discovering who set her up. Jogging accomplished the same for Charlie, plus it helped him regain leg mobility, stay in shape, and mull over problems and possible solutions. He had to figure a way to help Christine and yet keep to the corporation directive.
***
Christine stared at her cell phone, unable to comprehend why Charlie had been unfeeling and blunt to the point of being rude. What the hell? She drove home in a daze. She couldn't talk to him, but she'd always been able to talk to him. Once she arrived home, she simply stood in the living room. What did she do? The bed seemed so tempting; crawl under the covers, shut away the world and forget everything in dreams. Or she could eat ice cream and watch day time television, a mini vacation from her vacation. She opened the freezer and chocolate almond called to her.